


twelve days of christmas

by snottygrrl



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snottygrrl/pseuds/snottygrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>unexpected gifts confuse clint</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. day one

**Author's Note:**

> every year, somebody asks the question as whether the twelve days of christmas are the ones leading up to the 25th, or somewhere surrounding the 25th. i mentally sigh and explain that the twelve days of christmas start on the evening of the 25th, ending on twelfth night (the eve of the 5th of jan) and epiphany (the 6th of jan). this is unbeta'd as I will write each piece separately and post nightly (we hope) and just let the story go where it wants to. Hopefully, in the end, it works as a whole.

Clint walks into his suite in the Stark Tower, glances over at his bed and freezes. 

"JARVIS," he says tightly.

"Sir?"

"What is that?"

"On the bed?" JARVIS sounds supremely unconcerned, which is a nice trick for an AI. "That would be a gift, sir."

"It looks like a weapon."

"I would posit that when the Avengers are involved, everything is a weapon. However, I believe most people would classify that object as ammunition."

Clint huffs, but mentally concedes the point. "Who put it there?"

JARVIS seems to hesitate. "I'm not at liberty to say, sir."

"Excuse me? Someone breaks into my quarters and puts a weapon—"

"Ammunition."

"—a weapon," Clint repeats pointedly, "on my bed and you're 'not at liberty to say'?"

"It is meant to be anonymous. I can assure you that it is perfectly safe and was not put there with any malicious intent."

"Whatever." Clint still approaches the bed with caution. 

The single arrow lying on the foot is beautiful. The shaft is a light wood, obviously hand turned and finished; the fletching is made from real bird feathers, speckled tawny and brown. Clint's high-tech arrows are what he needs for the battles they fight, but an arrow like this—Clint picks it up almost reverently—an arrow like this has soul.


	2. day two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this time there's a box just outside his door.

This time there's a box just outside his door. It's wrapped in metallic paper with a deep purple ribbon around it. Tied into the bow is another of those gorgeous arrows. 

Clint stares at it. "JARVIS."

"Sir?"

"Why's this out here?"

"Perhaps you should read the note, sir."

"There's a note this time?" Clint picks up the package, searching it as he carries it into his rooms and finds a small card tucked between the arrow and box.

_JARVIS advised me against putting the package inside your quarters,_ it reads, _I must sincerely apologize. I was concentrating on avoiding nosy Avengers and didn't stop to think about how incredibly rude it was to violate your personal space._

Clint's head pops up "JARVIS, did anyone see—"

"No one came down the hallway between when the gift was left and when you picked it up, sir, nor has anyone overridden my security to access the footage of that time period either." 

Unaccountably relieved, Clint returns to the note. _In the future I promise not to be so focused on my desire to keep this between you and me, that I forego simple manners. I hope you still enjoy the gifts despite my starting off so wrong footed._

Setting the arrow aside carefully, Clint unwraps the box. Inside are two books, _Guns of the South_ and _How Few Remain_ both by Harry Turtledove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry turtledove _has been dubbed "The Master of Alternate History". Within this genre he is known both for creating original scenarios: such as survival of the Byzantine Empire; an alien invasion in the middle of the World War II; and for giving a fresh and original treatment to themes previously dealt with by other authors, such as the victory of the South in the American Civil War; and of Nazi Germany in the Second World War._ via goodreads.
> 
> complete synopsis for the two books clint got can be found by clicking on the titles. _[how few remain](http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/842939.How_Few_Remain)_ takes place a generation after the south won the civil war, and _[guns of the south](http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/101599.Guns_of_the_South)_ introduces modern guns into the civil war and deals with the effects.


	3. day three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint had intended to head to the range about an hour ago

Clint had intended to head to the range about an hour ago, but he's having trouble putting down _How Few Remain_. He's so involved, that he actually starts when JARVIS speaks (though you'd be hard pressed to get him to admit it.)

"Sir, there are packages awaiting you outside the door."

The thought crosses his mind to leave them there for a while. To not run like a dog when called. That lasts for all of a minute. He's too curious and just as worried about nosy Avengers has his mysterious benefactor.

When he opens the door, there's a small stack of three flat packages all wrapped in purple paper. They're bundled together with ribbon and the whole thing is topped with another matching arrow. Even before he collects them, Clint's pretty sure it's a calendar and two coffee table books. Which seems odd, because so far the presents have been interesting. Other than the arrow, this looks like something someone would get for their grandmother.

Undoing the bow, Clint sets the arrow with the previous two and somewhat half-heartedly picks up the first book. It turns out to be _Locker Room Nudes / Dieux du Stade: The French National Rugby Team_. It's not a small book, 150 pages or more, filled with gorgeous black and white photos of naked and mostly naked men—the French rugby team, Clint supposes. 

The second is _Dieux du Stade: Gods of the Stadium_ , which is essentially more of the same. The blurb on the book says "Duran has taken his signature style to Dieux di Stade, where he transforms the athlete into graphic sensual male form" and Clint can't help but agree. 

Not surprisingly, the calendar turns out to be _Dieux du Stade 2013_ by the same photographer as the first book. Clint eyes June appreciatively. He's never had much use for calendars in his life, but he's already contemplating where he should hang it.

"So not something you'd get for your grandmother then," he murmurs to himself. 

Flipping over to January, Clint grabs the note that flutters out.

 _I thought you might rather French_ men _, instead of_ hens, is all it says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an: credit for the twist to men from hens, goes to dysonrules. i was really stuck for what to do for day three since i'd already done food for day three in my h/d version and dvds of dawn french for my merlin version. i was also v. v. aware that there wasn't many other options from my near panic trying to come up with something during take two. 
> 
> anyhoo, if you want to drool over what clint got, or get copies of your own, you can find them on amazon [Locker Room Nudes / Dieux du Stade: The French National Rugby Team](http://www.amazon.com/Locker-Room-Nudes-Dieux-Stade/dp/0789313073), [Dieux du Stade: Gods of the Stadium](http://www.amazon.com/Dieux-du-Stade-Gods-Stadium/dp/3832793917), and [Dieux du Stade 2013](http://www.amazon.com/Dieux-Stade-2013-Fran%C3%A7ois-Rousseau/dp/B009JW1ROI).


	4. day four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having spent some quality time with his new coffee table books the night before, Clint is slightly later than usual in arriving at the tower range.

Having spent some quality time with his new coffee table books the night before, Clint is slightly later than usual in arriving at the tower range. Not that there's a schedule or anything, but most of the Avengers tend to be creatures of habit. 

None of the others use the range very often, and especially not in the morning, so Clint is surprised to see an arrow dead center in one of the targets. Even more curious is the fact that the room seems to be as deserted as it always is at this hour. Further investigation results in the discovery that this is a fourth matching arrow, this one with an envelope tied to it with a dark maroon ribbon.

As Clint goes to remove the arrow from the target, he's slightly startled to realize it was shot with some force. He'd thought they were more for decoration than use. "JARVIS, what are these made from? Are they durable enough for actual use?"

"The broadhead is made from a metal alloy similar to the one Mr. Stark uses for your field arrows, sir. The shaft is made from pear wood, which is a fairly tough, very stable wood that resists splintering even after repeated soaking and drying cycles and is favored for architect's rulers because it does not warp. It's a preferred material for high-quality woodwind instruments and furniture."

Clint's eyes narrow. "Pear wood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let me guess, the fletching is partridge feathers."

"As you say, sir." JARVIS sounds approving, if vaguely amused.

Holding up the envelope, Clint mutters, "So let's see how he—or she, I suppose—managed to fit four calling birds in here."

"Colly birds, sir."

"What?"

"The original text is 'colly birds', it's another name for the common blackbird."

"Really? Huh. Okay, four colly birds then."

Inside the envelope are two tickets to the Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum (private guided tour included) and a note:  
 _I thought about getting you tickets to see all four of the Blackbird jets, but you'd have to travel all over the country to get to them and that seemed a bit excessive. So, I've gone for just the one at the Intrepid. They've got an A-12 Blackbird and the private tour will allow you to get right up next to it. Possibly inside._

_Maybe I'll get you tickets to go see the SR-71 Blackbird in Virginia next year. The YF-12A Blackbird and the M-21 Blackbird are a bit farther away as there's only one of each in Ohio and Seattle, Washington respectively, however they're certainly worth the trip. Such amazing aircraft._

Clint worries his lower lip between his teeth as he rereads the note. "Already thinking about next year, are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you'd like to know more about the Blackbird spy planes, there's an awesome resource [here](http://www.sr-71.org/blackbird/). [The Intrepid Museum](http://www.intrepidmuseum.org/About-Us/About-The-Museum.aspx) is an aircraft carrier in New York, NY and has a [brilliant little vid about the A-12](http://www.intrepidmuseum.org/LatestNews/December-2012/A-12-Blackbird,-Faster-than-a-Speeding-Bullet!.aspx). The broadhead i'm envisioning looks similar to the arrowhead at the top of this picture:  
> 


	5. day five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out to be a long and boring day.

It turns out to be a long and boring day. 

It—somewhat disappointingly—starts out much like any other. No unusual gifts at Clint's door. Nothing at the range. No arrows appearing anywhere odd. No purple packages. Clint keeps to his routine in the morning and then spends much of the afternoon resisting a growing urge to question JARVIS as to whether he should expect a gift for day five.

Restless, he ends up prowling around the shared living space, snapping at both Bruce and Pepper when each of them asks, at separate times, if there was anything they can do to help. 

Shortly thereafter Tony barks at _Clint_ to stop being such a jittery asshole (which earns him an admonishing scowl and a " _Tony_!" from Pepper.)

At which point, Clint decides to retreat to his quarters to sulk. 

By nine he gives up any pretense of dignity he'd been clinging to.

"JARVIS?"

"Sir."

"There isn't anything I should know about is there?"

"Sir?"

"Like something in the air vents, or perhaps back at the range?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir."

"You haven't seen the person who's been sending me the gifts around today have you?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, sir." And damned if JARVIS doesn't sound admonishing and slightly disappointed.

"I wasn't asking who it was," Clint defends. "I'm just—" He sighs and mutters, "Just trying to figure out if there'll be any more."

"Well, there are twelve days of Christmas, sir."

"Yes, I'm aware of the song, however, that doesn't mean—"

"There is a package awaiting you outside your door, sir."

Relief washes through him, but he still manages a sedate stroll to retrieve the gift. This time it's a small box with the fifth arrow perched precariously on top. After placing the arrow with the others, Clint opens the box and reads the note enclosed:  
 _Clint, I hope today's gift isn't too forward of me. They're given with no strings or expectations._

Curious, Clint pulls out the box's contents and for a moment can do nothing but stare. There are indeed five rings in two plastic packages and a cloth bag. The first plastic wrapped ring is labeled _Silicone Cock Ring_ ; the second _Easy Release Tri Cock and Ball Ring_. A small elegant tag on the cloth bag says _14k Gold_. Pulling the drawstrings open, he shakes out the contents into his palm. 

In his entire life, no one has ever given him jewelry. It seems somehow fitting that now that someone has, it's a 14k gold cock ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i must give credit for the idea to dysonrules. curious about the cock rings clint got? you can check them out on amazon: [easy release tri cock and ball ring](http://www.amazon.com/Easy-Release-Cock-Ball-Ring/dp/B0030BEWRS/) and [babeland](http://www.babeland.com/): a [silicone cock ring](http://www.babeland.com/silicone-cock-ring-/d/4345_c_50) and the best thing ever, the [14k gold cock ring](http://www.babeland.com/14k-gold-cock-ring/d/2859_c_50).


	6. day six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We should go to the Intrepid on New Years Day," Nat says.

"We should go to the Intrepid on New Years Day," Nat says.

"What makes you think I'm taking you?"

She just gives Clint that _look_.

"Yeah, okay," he concedes, "Tuesday's good."

They're quiet for a moment, Nat flipping through _Dieux du Stade: Gods of the Stadium_ , while Clint searches online for an appropriate quiver to hold his 'Christmas arrows' as he's taken to calling them.

"Who do you think it is?" Nat says in a far too disinterested tone.

"Haven't actually thought much about it." It's not really a lie. Clint has been somewhat afraid to look too closely at who could be behind the gifts and what they could mean. Up until last night, he'd been thinking it was possible the gifts could be from the Avengers as a whole, or at least more than one of them. Or that they could be from Steve as another part of his team-bonding plan. 

But the, um, 'five gold rings' kind of put paid to that. It's seeming more and more like he's actually being wooed—quite successfully if he's being honest—and he really doesn't want to have to let someone down gently. Because, as charmed as he is by the trouble his mystery giver is going to, he's finally admitted to himself that he'd lost his heart to Phil Coulson a long time ago.

Nat looks unimpressed. "We know it has to be someone who has access to the tower."

Clint doesn't even grace that with an answer. His eyes flick to hers in a well-obviously way before continuing to surf.

"We know it's not me...or you."

"We do, do we."

"You'd be much flashier if you were doing this, and I'd never feed your ego."

She's teasing and Clint loves her for it; for sensing he's not quite ready to talk about this, and yet not letting him get away with completely burying his head in the sand. He knows she'll push him, but not tonight.

"Sir, I don't mean to intrude."

"It's fine, JARVIS. What is it?"

"A package has just been delivered outside your door."

The arrow is once again laid across the top of the box, tied on with the dark maroon ribbon. There's weight to the package today.

Nat huffs impatiently. "It's not going to open itself."

Clint contemplates whether it's worth the effort to try and wait until he's alone and decides it's really not. Inside the box there are six bottles. As he takes each out, he realizes they're all varietals of The Wild Geese whisky and rum: Premium Rum, Golden Rum, Classic Blend Irish Whiskey, Rare Irish Whiskey, Single Malt Irish Whiskey, and Limited Edition Irish Whiskey. 

Nat's eyes widen slightly when she sees the labels. "What's the note say?"

It feels weird to read it out loud, but he knows he won't get away with keeping it from her, and for some reason just handing it over seems wrong. "Clint, I've always had a soft spot for The Wild Geese and their plight, though am guessing you might not be familiar with it. Please excuse the short history lesson to explain the gift. The Flight of the Wild Geese refers to the departure of an Irish Jacobite army under the command of Patrick Sarsfield from Ireland to France, as agreed in the Treaty of Limerick on the 3rd October 1691, following the end of the Williamite War in Ireland. They took the name _The Wild Geese_ in the hope and belief that this would be a temporary strategic exile in Europe. More broadly, the term ' Wild Geese ' is used in Irish history to refer to Irish soldiers who left Ireland to serve in the Continental Eurpean armies in the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries and who would subsequently help forge the fires and embers of European history. The Wild Geese brand remembers and honors those soldiers." Clint clears his suddenly tight throat before continuing. "There's a quote at the bottom. _'War battered dogs are we, fighters in every clime; Fillers of trench and of grave, mockers bemocked by time. War-dogs hungry and grey, gnawing a naked bone, fighters in every clime, every cause but our own.'_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the explanation is quoted almost verbatim from [irish regiments and history](http://www.irishregimentsandhistory.com/#/the-wild-geese/4549989514) website and the history section of [the wild geese collection](http://thewildgeesecollection.com/about-the-whiskey/history/) site. i had originally thought to do figurines, or a print of the actual irish wild geese, which you can find out more about on the following sites: [wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flight_of_the_Wild_Geese), [the doyle clan](http://www.doyle.com.au/wild_geese.htm), [irish regiments and history](http://www.irishregimentsandhistory.com/#/the-wild-geese/4549989514) and [wild geese heritage museum and library](http://indigo.ie/~wildgees/index.htm). but then i found [the booze](http://thewildgeesecollection.com/welcome/), and thought it more in keeping with the other gifts. besides, they had exactly six different kinds, so how could i not?


	7. day seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers have somehow managed to get out of the many New Years Eve invitations that have been arriving over the past few months

The Avengers have somehow managed to get out of the many New Years Eve invitations that have been arriving over the past few months, opting instead to have a small private party of their own—just the team, a few S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel and plus ones for any one who wants.

Clint's barely arrived to said gathering when Tony snatches the bottle he's brought from his hands. "Don't like my drinks, Barton? Though I have to admit to liking the disco skull design. Hang on, they make rum now? Pepper, when did The Wild Geese start producing rum?" Tony yells across the room.

Pepper, mid-conversation with Hill, doesn't bother to look over, but raises her voice enough to answer. "Just over a year ago, Tony. They sent you a case of the Premium Rum with your whiskey order. All black bottles, silver skulls?"

"Sounds very Goth. You'd think I'd remember that."

"You'd think," Clint replies, practically ripping the bottle of golden rum back out of Tony's grasp. He does plan on sharing it, he wouldn't have brought it along if he weren't, but he's not going to let Tony pour.

"Christ, Barton, no need to get grabby."

Before Clint can respond, Bruce is casually leading Tony away. "Tony, you were going to show me some trick to mix the perfect Manhattan, remember?"

Wincing internally, Clint wonders how obviously distressed he looked at Tony manhandling his gift.

Nat, as always, knows. "Yes, you did look like you were going to deck him if he reached for the bottle again." 

Clint does grimace a little at that. 

Lips twitching up a bit at the corner, Nat adds, "Well, at least you know you can check Stark off the list of possible suitors. He was genuinely surprised by the rum."

"I'd pretty much crossed him out due to the politeness of the notes, not to mention the discretion." Clint says before he can catch himself.

"So, not Stark, you or me," Nat ticks off. "Not Jane or Thor," she adds, gesturing to them cuddling in the corner of the couch and feeding each other.

Resigning himself to the conversation, Clint nods. "Darcy's out for the same reasons as Stark, as well as lack of funds. Besides, though I'm not knocking anyone off the list just for being female, I'm guessing day three indicates a man."

Nat hums in agreement. "Causing Hill and Pepper to drop to the bottom of the list." She scans the room. "That leaves Sitwell, Steve, Bruce, Coulson and Fury as most likely. Though I suppose it could be JARVIS or one of the council."

"No, JARVIS doesn't trust the council, so he wouldn't cooperate. And that AI would never have eyes for anyone but Tony. Don't get me wrong, I do think he likes the rest of us. However, if it came down to it, Tony would win every time." Clint's brain backtracks. "Wait, you think it could be _Fury_?"

Nat's bland expression doesn't change. "What was today's gift?"

The seventh arrow had been shot into a target at the range, the envelope dangling off of it. There'd been no extra note, just a printed gift acknowledgement from SWAN—Service Women's Action Network. Clint's familiar with the organization and their work advocating for women serving in the military and veterans in order to increase their visibility and access to equal protection, opportunities and benefits. He's touched by the generosity and thought behind the gift.

Pulling the acknowledgement card from his back pocket, he hands it to her, feeling his cheeks flush with heat. "Seven hundred dollars donated in my name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore the fact that i could use the [Service Women's Action Network](http://servicewomen.org/our-work/advocacy/) for day seven, because how cool are they? and clint's beau would totally donate to them in his name.


	8. day eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint wakes rather slowly and painfully.

Clint wakes rather slowly and painfully. 

He's in his own bed, though he has no recollection of how he got there. However it came about, he hopes it wasn't too appalling, and at least he's alone, thank Christ. The sun is at an entirely different angle than he's ever seen it before while in this bed, but he guesses it's well past eleven.

He makes to sit up, and groans. He hasn't had a hangover this bad in an age. What in heaven's name was he thinking matching Tony and Thor drink for drink? Turning to the bedside table to squint at the clock, he's distracted by a glass of water and three Advil. 

He's just gratefully washed down the pills when his brain catches up to what their presences means. Nat would have left them out, but not by the bedside. She has a strong belief that those who are stupid enough to get this drunk should suffer just a little. None of the other women are strong enough to get a drunk Clint to go anywhere. Neither Thor nor Steve knows what Advil is. That leaves Bruce or Coulson. He has a fuzzy memory of Darcy apparently on a mission to give Bruce a more hands on approach to her rather impressive cleavage and Bruce blushing to beat the band, but not turning away either. Which leaves...

"JARVIS, who got me back to my quarters last night?"

"Agent Coulson helped you find your way into bed, sir." And it's somehow obvious that if JARVIS could smirk, he would be.

Clint groans again. He's only wearing his boxers and he's a very handsy drunk. Deciding what's done is done, he doesn't ask for any further details. A shower does wonders to his outlook on the world (along with the Advil kicking in), and he feels almost human by the time he's dressed. 

Which is when he remembers that Tony recognized The Wild Geese label. "JARVIS, can I ask you some questions about my gifts?"

"I'm not at liber—"

"Not anything about the giver," Clint hurries to clarify, "just the gifts themselves."

"Sir?" JARVIS sounds skeptical, but at least he hasn't said "No", outright.

"Tony drinks that brand of whiskey doesn't he? So you'd know how much it costs, yeah?"

"Mr. Stark does sometimes stock his bar with The Wild Geese whiskey."

"So about how much would my day six gift have come to?"

"I fail to see the relevance, sir."

"Come on, JARVIS, help a guy out."

Clint swears JARVIS huffs, but he answers, "Around $300 US dollars, sir."

Eyes widening, Clint does some quick calculations of his own. Those coffee table books are fairly spendy, he'd noticed, and of course yesterday's gift had been ridiculous. He hadn't tried googling, but he guesses a 14k gold cock ring isn't cheap either. All told he wagers that just over halfway through this, his mysterious giver has already spent close to $1500 on gifts, and that's probably a low figure depending on how they came by those arrows.

Clint crosses Sitwell off his mental list of possibilities. Though they've always had a flirtatious relationship, Jasper just isn't the kind of guy to spend that much money to woo someone. Hell, few people are, barring those who are stupidly rich like Tony. He considers putting Tony back on the list, and then remembers the notes that apologized and scratches the idea. 

Before he can get any further, there's a loud banging at his door.

"Natasha Romanov is here, sir."

"Can you let her in, JARVIS?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Sleeping the day away? I thought we had a date." She sounds far too perky for a woman who was doing shots with a super soldier the night before.

"Yeah, well I'm thinking it might be better to go tomorrow." When Nat doesn't even give a token protest, Clint looks over. "What are you holding behind your back?" 

"Haven't been down to the practice range yet, have you?" 

It takes him a second to realize she's not avoiding his question and another little bit before he's making a lunge for the eighth arrow.

The fact that Nat virtually hands it over—meaning she only flips under his arm and over the couch twice before she lets him snatch it—means she understands how important these gifts are becoming to him.

"Well, go on," she prompts.

The envelope attached contains another gift acknowledgement and a short note. "Clint," he reads aloud, "I've never particularly liked it when people gave to charities _they'd_ picked out in _my_ name. But as fond as you are of birds, I doubt you'd have wanted me to give you seven _actual_ swans. And though I'm perfectly aware that this may not result in quite the conclusion I'd like after Twelfth Night, I'm certainly not going to complicate things with even one maid doing milking of any kind with you involved. I'm fairly certain both charities do work you find important, so I hope you don't mind."

Turning over the gift acknowledgement from Heifer International, Clint reads out, "$800 has been donated in your name towards a gift of a Milk Menagerie. The gift of a Milk Menagerie represents a quality-breed heifer, two goats and a water buffalo - four milk-producing animals for hardworking families hoping to provide a better life for their children. With training for recipient families, each animal in the Menagerie will produce gallon after gallon of wonderful, life-sustaining milk. And as the families pass on the gift of offspring to neighbors in need, over time a Milk Menagerie will end hunger and despair one child, one family and one village at a time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can also buy/gift a share of [a milk menagerie at heifer international](https://heifer.org/gift-catalog/milk-menagerie.html)


	9. day nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is up extremely early in order to assure that he will be the first person at the practice range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am, frankly, exhausted tonight, so i am completely unsure if the below even makes sense. i hope so.

Clint is up extremely early in order to assure that he will be the first person at the practice range. There isn't any envelopes or unique arrows and JARVIS assures him that none have been placed there since the one Nat had found yesterday. 

Keeping his workout short, Clint is already halfway through his green machine smoothie and a bagel when Nat walks in the kitchen. "Sleeping the day away? I thought we had a date," he teases.

She just flips him off as she heads for the coffee maker.

It turns out the trip to the Intrepid Museum becomes a bit of a group field trip when Nat suggests they should bring along Steve and that somehow morphs into Steve, Thor, Tony and Pepper joining them. 

Bruce has been shut in his lab with Jane working on something to do with the Bifröst for the last two days, and no amount of cajoling will pry them loose. Darcy allows as how someone has to stay and make sure they actually eat and drink and it might as well be her.

The museum staff is amenable to providing the private tour to the whole gang, especially after Pepper slips them the Stark corporate visa. What follows, is several of the oddest hours Clint has ever spent without being on assignment, and though he hates to admit it, some of the more entertaining.

"I'd say you can mark Steve and Pepper off the list," Nat says as they watch Tony expound on the wonders of the A-12 Blackbird. "They had to be told what it was."

"I thought this was for fun, not reconnaissance."

Nat raises an eyebrow. "It can't be both?"

Clint shrugs.

"You said you'd eliminated Sitwell already, so that leaves Fury, Bruce, a very slight chance of Maria, and Coulson."

"I have an extremely hard time believing Fury would take this much trouble over anything that didn't involve world domination. Besides, I'm not sure JARVIS trusts him much more than the council."

Nat thinks for a moment and nods. "Agreed. And I also think that it's a male as you were saying before, which means you're down to two."

Before Clint can actually process that, there's a commotion over by the Blackbird as Tony says, "Hey no, big guy, I didn't actually mean you should try." 

Clint and Nat rush over to assist in damage control.

Clint spends the rest of the day working very, _very_ hard to keep himself distracted and not think about the conclusions Nat had come to.

It's nearly ten at night before JARVIS finally notifies Clint that a package has arrived. Clint actually has to steady himself with a deep breath before he goes to retrieve the gift.

The shiny purple paper has returned and though the box isn't that small, the ninth arrow looks large and awkward tied across the top with metallic gold curly ribbon. 

Setting the arrow aside, Clint discards the wrapping. He's not sure what he expected—especially after the last few days' gifts—but it certainly wasn't a Radio City Christmas Spectacular DVD and Pop-Up Book Set.

A note falls out when he opens the first book.

 _Clint,_ it reads, _I've about despaired of having the numbers match at this juncture. There are certainly a lot more than nine Rockettes amongst these pages, not to mention the rest of the set. Also couldn't decide if I was more disappointed or relieved that the Rockettes had finished their holiday show for the season. Tickets to a live show at Radio City are certainly much nicer than a video and two books, but like the milking maids, I find myself loathe to put any of these dancing ladies near enough for you to charm. The whole point behind this is that I'm tired of watching from afar and being jealous of those that draw your attention. At least by the end of Twelfth Night, I can be assured that I'll have done everything I could to make sure you know how I feel about you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfortunately, clint's gift is currently sold out on the rockettes site, but you can ask them to let you know when there are more [radio city christmas spectacular dvd and pop-up book sets](http://www.radiocitystore.com/radio-city-christmas-spectacular-dvd-and-pop-up-book-set/detail.php?p=280590&v=dvd-book) available for purchase.


	10. day ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's been staring at the notes from the previous nine days for the better part of three hours.

Clint's been staring at the notes from the previous nine days for the better part of three hours. 

As much as he's been enjoying the thought and creativity behind each day's gifts, there is no denying this isn't just for fun. If the sheer cost weren't enough of a clue, last night's note made it plain that the giver's intention is to woo Clint with the hopes of having him.

No one has ever tried to woo Clint with so much as a bouquet of flowers—let alone one of arrows—and Clint really has no idea how to react. The closer they get to the end of the song, the more nervous Clint gets. He never goes into a situation without a game plan and he's days away from a rather important confrontation without so much as his contact's name.

Even though Clint's avoided thinking about who the giver could possibly be, it's become apparent that he needs to figure it out. He'd made a list, with the help of an extremely reluctant JARVIS, of all the people allowed into the tower without a chaperone and started scratching them off given what he knows.

In the end (and in several previous permutations he'd scrapped in favor of starting over), he's left with the same two names Nat had come to yesterday. Only he's not really, because there had been an extremely self-satisfied Darcy bearing a large hickey at the breakfast table this morning. There's absolutely no way the writer of the notes in front of him would be making out with Darcy while Clint looked at a pop-up book of dancing girls.

Very carefully Clint marks out the second to the last name. The only one remaining is _Agent Phil Coulson_. Clint considers starting over again with a clean list, but even he can't pretend it would make the result any different. 

And the most ridiculous thing is that of all the people that could possibly be wooing him, Phil Coulson is the only one Clint would want to be. The only one that Clint would even contemplate saying yes to. But, see, he's never considered it a possibility. Always seen Phil as so far out of his reach as to be laughable. And now he can't quite wrap his head around the concept that Phil could actually want him, want him so much that he'd go to this kind of effort and expense. It's almost as unfathomable as JARVIS announcing that Barney was outside his quarters wanting to apologize.

Almost as if on cue, JARVIS breaks the silence. "Sir, there's a beribboned arrow outside your door with an envelope."

Sure enough, arrow number ten is lying right in front of his door with a Cirque du Soleil ticket envelope tied to it with a dark purple ribbon. Clint stands frozen, staring at it for so long that JARVIS finally interrupts.

"Is there anything the matter, sir?"

He was thinking about his brother and tickets to the fuckin' circus show up outside his door? Yes, that is a definite sign that something is very wrong. "No, everything's fine," is what Clint answers, as he bends to retrieve the arrow.

Inside the ticket envelope are two premium tickets with backstage access to the Cirque du Soleil show _Totem_ on March 20, 2013 and a note. _Clint, I debated over day ten for quite some time. My immediate thought for leaping lords was the circus, and we both know there are more than one issue surrounding that. I know the circus holds many bad memories for you, but I would hope it also holds some good ones. I'll not deny wanting to hunt down some of your old mentors for reasons other than those tied to my job, but I can't hate the concept of the circus. It helped shape the remarkable man you are and gave you an unparalleled set of skills. I've always wanted sit with you under a big top—have you give me the inside scoop—but never dared ask. Don't worry, you don't have to take me, or even use the tickets for that matter. Feel free to give them away to Thor and Jane or someone else if you don't want to go. But I do ask that you think about it for a bit. Cirque du Soleil puts on an impressive show and I think you'd enjoy it. Not only that, but it might be nice to be in the audience for a change._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> think i made up which show the tickets are for? nope, [cirque du soleil's totem](http://www.cirquedusoleil.com/en/shows/totem/tickets/new-york.aspx) is playing under [the big top on roosevelt ave](http://www.cirquedusoleil.com/en/shows/totem/tickets/new-york/maps-infos.aspx) near grand central pkwy, opening on 14 march 2013. as of the time of this writing you could get two premium tickets to wednesday night's performance.


	11. Day eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint manages to avoid everyone for the entire morning and a bit into the afternoon before Nat tracks him down.

Clint manages to avoid everyone for the entire morning and a bit into the afternoon before Nat tracks him down.

She regards him through narrowed eyes. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you since lunch yesterday."

"Around." He's aware that he isn't quite pulling off the casual air he's going for, but he thinks he still might be able to slide by.

"What's wrong?" She's suddenly all business. "How can I help?"

Or not. "Wow, shatter a guy's confidence why don't you?" Clint tries, hoping to deflect. "You could've at least pretended my carefree act was slightly effective." He hadn't even realized she'd tensed until her shoulders ease slightly. He must be even more of a disaster than he thought.

"Clint."

"Yeah, okay. But not here."

"Quarters?"

"Diner. I want pie."

That gets a small twitch of Nat's lips. "Pie it is then."

Because she knows him, she lets him alone for the walk to the local diner, the perusing of the pies and the ordering. However, the minute they sit down she's done. "Spill."

"It's Phil."

"Is he all right? What does he need?"

"Perhaps a psych eval," Clint mutters. "No, I mean he's the one that's been sending the presents."

"Yes, that's been fairly obvious for days." Nat pauses, scrutinizing his face. "But not to you. You still don't quite believe it, even though it has to be him. I don't understand what the issue is. I know you're attracted to him." She cocks her head to the side, staring at him for so long he starts to fidget. "Good lord, you're not just attracted to him, you're _in love_ with him."

Clint gives up all pretence and ducks his head in an attempt to hide his blush.

"I still fail to see a problem."

Clint thinks about trying to avoid the implied question, and then remembers the numerous ways she has at her disposal to make him answer. "What if I'm not who he thinks I am?"

Nat actually gives a disgusted snort. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. We're talking about Agent Phil Coulson, right? One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best? The same man who's known you and been your handler for too many years to count? The man who quite possibly knows you better than you know yourself? That Phil?"

"Maybe." Nat's right, Phil does sometime seem to know what Clint will do before Clint does it. It's what makes them such a great team in the field. Still. "What if I disappoint him?"

"Then you'll apologize and make it up to him and do better the next time. Just like you've always done."

Clint knows everything she's saying is logical and right, but it doesn't stop the churning in his gut. "I'm not good at relationships, Nat. I haven't had a lot of practice."

"You and I both know Phil is one of the most patient men around." Nat reaches across the table and takes his hand. "And he never goes into a situation blind. He wouldn't be doing this if he wasn't prepared to deal with all of your foibles."

"What if he leaves me, Nat," Clint finally whispers. "I don't think I could survive that."

She squeezes his hand. "I can't say that he won't, but I am sure he wouldn't unless he was sure there was absolutely no way to work it through with you. Nobody buys someone a 14k gold cock ring unless they plan on sticking it out."

Clint manages to reward that with a weak smile.

"Seriously, Clint, Phil is not a man to give up easily, you _know_ that." Her grip tightens, her voice suddenly fierce. "Are you really going to let fear keep this from you? Do not let those from your past have that kind of power."

Clint finally meets her gaze, has no idea what his expression is saying. Whatever it is, Nat seems to approve, because she nods once and lets go of his hand. "Now finish your pie."

Clint ends up heading to the practice range after they return to the tower. He needs to process what Nat's said and he always does that best while shooting.

The eleventh arrow is stuck in the middle target with another envelope hanging from it by a ribbon. Inside is a gift certificate and note. _Clint,_ the note reads _Not long after we met, you told me you could play any instrument, now's your chance to prove it. I expect to see you perform in appropriate dress when you've finished the lessons. By now you've figured out who I am (or you aren't the specialist I thought you were, though there is a slight possibility you could be in serious denial.) I won't even try to guess what you're thinking, but you'll have the opportunity to tell me tomorrow night. I've arranged for an Avengers/S.H.I.E.L.D. outing for Twelfth Night. I trust that you'll be honest and not pretend you feel something for me if you don't, and that you'll refrain from humiliating me despite knowing that I do feel something for you. Until tomorrow, P_

Clint rereads the note again before remembering that he still hasn't looked at what he's learning to play. Flipping over the gift certificate, he's barely finished reading _This certificate entitles the bearer to eleven bagpipe lessons at John Martin Bradley's Bagpipe Instruction Center—_ before he bursts into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided on bagpipes early on, since i'm trying to stick to mostly military-ish things, except for yesterday (okay, and the booze and the cock rings, shut it), and that means fife or bagpipes, and neither clint nor phil seem like fife kinda boys (unless they needed something to use as a makeshift pea shooter.) besides, bagpipes go with kilts, and who wouldn't want to see clint in a kilt? but then i ran into difficulties trying to figure out _how bagpipes_? until i found [John Martin Bradley's Bagpipe Instruction Center](http://www.nycbagpipe.com/learntoplay.htm) in NY. who's going to go get lessons now?


	12. day twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gives up pretending to sleep just before 5am and heads back down to the practice range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we made it \o/ some nights it was touch and go, but i always managed to get the post up before the clock ticked past 11.59 on [dreamwidth](http://snottygrrl.dreamwidth.org/tag/twelvedaysavengers) (though the last few nights it was just after midnight when i added the chapter to the ao3 version), and even managed to have most instalments be some sort of slightly significant word count (like 900 or 750 or 675 or 600). huzzah i say. Happy Twelfth Night (no, it's not just a shakespeare play.)

Clint gives up pretending to sleep just before 5am and heads back down to the practice range. He's more than a little surprised to find the twelfth arrow in the left target, one final (Clint assumes) envelope attached to it with what appears to be three different kinds of ribbon. 

"JARVIS, when did Phil leave this?"

"Sir, I'm not sure he'd want me—"

"I'd thought we'd worked past this, JARVIS. Remember that discussion we had about me needing to know things? About how you're actually assisting the giver, Phil, by helping me understand what's going on?"

It's downright amazing how Tony managed to create JARVIS, because damned if the AI doesn't sound every bit as put upon and long suffering as a few people Clint's known in his past. "He arrived at oh-four-hundred and left exactly seventeen minutes later."

Clint frowns at that. "Did he seem okay?"

"His movements were fractionally slower than usual, indicating a slight fatigue, and he showed signs of preoccupation, but not to a point to cause any significant detriment to his capabilities."

"Thanks, JARVIS. I appreciate it."

"Sir." 

Maybe there's some issue going on at S.H.I.E.L.D. that the Avengers are unaware of, because Clint can't think of any other reason for Phil to be showing signs of stress.

Clint manages to untangle the arrow, which he sets aside where it'll be safe while he practices, and opens the envelope. There's a note along with two tickets to Stomp at Orpheum Theatre for 2pm on 13 Jan 2013. He's always known that Phil liked to go to the see stuff live—the theatre, the symphony now and again, every once in a while the opera—but it never occurred to Clint that he might get to be a part of that. Going to such things has always been what _other_ people did, not circus kids with GEDs. It's just beginning to dawn on Clint that perhaps that isn't how Phil sees him, because Phil appears to want to go to at least some of his shows with Clint. The idea is as wonderful as it is frightening and it leaves an inexplicable warmth deep in his chest. He unfolds the note. _Clint, I thought about bringing these for you tonight, but the arrow makes that a bit difficult. I also thought about hand delivering them before we left, but the main reason for the Twelfth Night gathering is so you won't have to be alone with me if you aren't interested in taking this further. We can avoid the whole awkward I-don't-really-think-of-you-that-way conversation, if we're in a group. That way you can tell me if you're interested, and if you don't, we continue on as if this whole thing never happened. Simple and clean. I chose a matinee for Stomp so whomever you take it won't have to seem like a date. Not sure if there are twelve of them in the troupe, but they are definitely drummers drumming. I'm pretty sure you'll like them. I'll see you this evening, P_

Something niggles at Clint about the last two notes all during his practice, his shower and his breakfast. Part of his brain is trying to connect it to the information JARVIS had told him, but for some reason he can't make the pieces fit. 

Finally, he goes to see Nat. 

After he shows her the notes and has JARVIS repeat to her what he told Clint, Nat slaps him in the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For you being an idiot. Phil has put it all out there, and he obviously thinks you're not interested and are going to leave him high and dry, and he's done everything to make that _easy_ for you." She hits him again.

"Nat, cut it out." That last one's going to bruise. "It's not like I asked him to. Why would he think that, anyway?"

"Because your _you_." She studies him for a moment. "Promise me you're not going to fuck this up."

"Nat, you know I can't—"

She flaps an impatient hand at him. "Not the whole relationship, just tonight. Promise me you'll let him know you're interested, because you are."

"I don't know if I can—"

"Yes, you can." She gives him the glare that is usually reserved for times he's really, _really_ screwed up. "Promise."

"Okay, okay, Christ. I promise."

"Good. Come on." 

"Where're we going?"

"To get you dressed for Twelfth Night dinner."

Clint rolls his eyes once Nat's back is turned, but follows along dutifully.

Hours later as he, Nat, Steve, Thor, Jane, Tony, Pepper, Bruce, Darcy, Jasper, Maria, and Phil are milling about the two-hundred-and-fourteen-year-old Ten Broeck Mansion, Clint wonders if he can actually keep that promise and what Nat will do to him if he doesn't. Phil isn't avoiding him exactly, but he's definitely giving him a wide berth. Nat has started to give him pointed looks, and he really isn't sure how in the hell he's going to let Phil know he's interested once they sit down to dinner without announcing it to the whole table. 

He's just decided he's going to corner Phil with or without Phil's cooperation, when they're called in to dinner. Slumping into the formal dining room, Clint despairs over his love life, only to discover that Nat has used her considerable skills at manipulation to arrange the seating so Clint and Phil are next to each other. Though it's also possible that she's brought the whole group in on the situation, Clint really wouldn't put it past her. Not only are they seated next to each other, but Nat is on Phil's left, with Darcy across the table from him. Bruce is across from Clint, but neither he nor Darcy seems to have noticed there's anyone else at the table. There may be hope for this yet.

Clint tries to decide on the most optimal thing to say. "How the hell did you find this place?" is what comes out of his mouth, and he barely keeps from grimacing. 

Somehow, Nat radiates her disapproval without even looking at him. It takes Clint a moment to realize that Phil's answered him and Clint has absolutely no idea what Phil said.

Not wanting to ask Phil to repeat himself, and not being able to continue that particular conversation, Clint blurts out, "I want to go to the Cirque du Soleil with you." And this time he does wince. 

However, for the first time tonight Phil's meeting his eyes, and there's a tentative smile on his lips. "You do?"

Clint grins back, a wave of relief washing through him. He nudges Phil's leg with his own. "Yes, I really do."

~fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had originally wanted to do something with a drum corp because a) military theme and b) they are totally awesome. but alas, despite there being drum corps and drum corp competitions and such, there aren't actually happening in any ticketable ny kind of way. and then i went to hang with my bestie on new years and she said, "are they going to stomp for drummers?" and suddenly they were. once again, the show they're going to is totally real, because i'm weird that way. you can join them at [stomp](http://www.bestofnewyork.com/shows-tickets/Off-Broadway/stomp/) for my birthday. just to be ornery, _stomp_ didn't open in time to have them go see it on twelfth night, which is how they ended up at [this random dinner](http://events.timesunion.com/albany_ny/events/show/294814305-twelfth-night-dinner-at-ten-broeck-mansion) at the [Ten Broeck Mansion](http://www.tenbroeckmansion.org/), which actually fits better, since phil did keep going on about twelfth night. i was going to have them eat king's cake and have phil and clint get the bean and pea (making them king and queen, respectively, of twelfth night), but they really wanted to stop with the leg nudging. if i'd had more time am sure i could have persuaded them, but we're on a tight deadline, so i let them be.


End file.
